Wednesday, July 27, 2016
I also sustained minor brain damage and whiplash earlier this month, and have had difficulty reading and tracking across a page. So, I'm sure that didn't help.
I really enjoy writing prose. Not sure I ever thought I would say that. Random thoughts about writing prose:
- I've worked in healthcare so long that I accidentally write passive sentences all the time and don't even realize I've done it.
- I don't really give a shit about ending sentences in prepositions. It doesn't really bother me. Really.
- I love sentence fragments, though!
- I enjoy getting obsessively lost in worlds I've created and entirely in my own imagination, which I think must be what hubris feels like. Sorry, invisible spaghetti god.
Sunday, April 10, 2016
growling across the
grey, balding dome
We eat Frangelica monkey bread
forks sticky instead of fingers
and find warmth
in an embrace
that opens and closes this story
beside the aching spring clouds
We spent in hospital waiting rooms
no longer sterile white, or 90s pastels
but filled with landscape art
with textured seating
and warm wood-grain frames
we waited in the cafeteria
and took breaks
huddled for warmth in the truck bed
Just like the other families
whose names were called alongside
but we will get lost
because there are few things
I need as intensely
as the pungent smell
of a shedding cedar
to dangle my toes over the shadows
of water striders
cast against the rocky creek bottom
to work my way down root framed stairs
and wind through deer trails
without regard for
time or space or others
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
It's easy to find poetry
In the pocked Capen bluffs
Or the swarm of carp
Bright beneath the gentle
Lapping waves of a waiting pond
Or the relentless flood
Of an April Missouri
It's an escape that gets me
Through to tomorrow
Sunday, April 3, 2016
When I'm gone cold, someday,
Plant me beneath a forest.
Give me this last wish-
To feed the roots, to
Soften the steps of fresh
Fawns, to lay beneath
An ancient canopy's shade.
So i can finally find my way home.
Friday, April 1, 2016
On an April morning
The chickens puffer out
Like bobble heads with
Scaley legs- the cats curl
Into a sister moon
On the bathroom vent-
And Melissa is smiling
In her sleep, blanket
Pulled up to her chin
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Because April is National Poetry Month and that's my favorite month of the year- when tree pollen isn't having their way with my sinuses. Learn more about awesome activities for National Poetry Month by visiting Poets.org's fabulous website. Fabulous activities they are hosting include (but are not limited to): poem in a pocket, Dear poet, and 30 more ways to celebrate.
If I remember, I'd like to try committing a new poem to memory. I'll be picking something from here. Perhaps...
Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
I have listed my blog at NaPoWriMo and I'm using Camp NaNoWriMo to help keep me motivated and connected to my friends who are also participating in a 30 day writing challenge (Hi Sleazer and Michelle!)
Oh, maybe I'll make some youtube videos!
I don't know man, let's have fun with this!
Monday, March 28, 2016
Sunday, January 31, 2016
This has been a tough week in my life, for a myriad of personal reasons. It feels like my poetry this week is struggling around some of these things, and I haven't quite hit the words, but I'm working on it. Maybe it isn't the words, but finding a way to really look at the emotions, at the feelings, and convey them with a punch. It would be nice to punch something. With words. Like a grown ass woman.
Here's to a fresh week, my friends. May your words flow like wine, your wine flow like water, and your water be lead-free.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Friday, January 1, 2016
~Amy Poehler, Yes Please
I had a wonderful conversation with one of my teammates last night, somewhere before or after midnight. We were talking about roller derby and how there are moments that are sparkly and wonderful and you want to scream "Yeah buddy! I did a thing!" but for the most part, it's hard and sometimes you just want to sit down and cry for hours because you just can't get it. Then I started reading Yes Please, a badass Christmas present from my brother-in-law, and I was like YES. THIS. There are some life lessons and shit right there.
Shit is mostly hard and boring, but because you slog through you get to create and witness something that makes all of it worthwhile.
So last year was mostly shit, but I wrote another book! Yessss. It was mostly poorly done, but it is finished and the next one will be better because I got through the first one and I learned some shit.
Hope y'all learned some shit this past year and that next year you have at least one Hell Yes moment.